Or, you know, as boring as batshit. But bear with me. You know you want to. Okay, you don't really want to. Just think of me, if you will, as that crashing, heaving bore you sometimes end up sitting next to on a plane or at any social occasion. You know the kind. The ones that want to regale you with every intricate detail of their tedious existence. Meanwhile, you sit there apparently spellbound but really suppressing the urge to scream. But you're too nice and polite so you smile and nod instead. Or is that just me?
Alternatively, I guess you could just click away right now. I can't really stop you. Hmph.
You're still here? Oh. I guess that means I do have to come up with something. Hmmm, let's see....
I've got nothing.
In which case, I might as well just
steal every one else's ideas be inspired by others and list the things I'm completely over. Every other bugger blogger seems to have given this a spin and I like to be cutting edge and original. Shut up.
The things I am COMPLETELY over, in no particular order, are:
More specifically, getting up on a Saturday morning and schlepping out to the boys games. This involves a complicated game of tag as there are three of them, two of us and only one car. Therefore, I confess I am somewhat elated that the season has finally come to an end. HALLELUJAH!
Moreover, I still remain firmly convinced that my boys should really have taken up cross-dressing instead of soccer as an extra-curricular activity. I'm sure getting on some fishnets and stilettos would be so much easier than those bloody soccer socks, boots and shin pads. Nightmare.
HOME IMPROVEMENT SHOWS
In particular the shows where they de-clutter and make-over ordinary suburban homes.
I'm always bemused by the after shots of such make-overs. The house is transformed from sheer chaos to sleek and stylish, complete with calming scented candles flickering away for added ambiance.
Seriously? Candles? With children? If I lit any candles around here the house would be up in flames quicker than you could say 'insurance claim'. Then again, I HAVE paid the insurance. Ahem...
I'd love to challenge them to do our home. I'm sure if that Peter Walsh character took one look at our humble abode, his solution would be pretty clear cut. He would simply take out a hand grenade, detonate it, hand to me and RUN.
FIGHTS OVER PLAYSTATION/COMPUTER
I have completely failed as a parent. Tragically, my boys do not possess their own exclusive lap-top/PS4/Ipad/Ipod and any other device I probably haven't heard of. I'm so
broke mean. How can I deprive them of such luxuries necessities? This means they have to do the unthinkable: SHARE. Fights and indignation ensue.
But why don't you just set them time limits I hear you ask? You're the boss, after all.
GENIUS. Why didn't I think of that? Oh wait. I did.
It goes like this:
They are given a time and happily agree with rapturous thank yous. As soon as their time is up they immediately announce to their patiently waiting brother: "It's your turn, Bro!"
They blissfully hi-five each other while beaming and the next person takes their turn. All is sweetness and light.
YEAH. RIGHT. In my dreams.
In reality there are furious shriekings of:
"That's not fairrrrrrrrr!!"
"That's not fairrrrrrrrr!!"
"Why does HE always get to go first??!!"
"Muuum, he's TEASING meeeee!!" (If one smirks at the other as they reluctantly trade places).
This can escalate to the point where they effectively try to kill one another while Micky Blue Eyes and I issue time outs and groundings.
Ahhhhh, the serenity. I mean, insanity.....
LASER TAG PARTIES (OR ANY PARTIES, REALLY...)
I have been to two of these recently. Mr 5 was invited to one and then Mr 10. They are one big cacophonous wall of noise. It makes my head hurt just thinking about it.
In spite of this, I know that when November rolls around and Mr 5 becomes Mr 6, I will dutifully book him one. This is still preferable than inviting people to our hand grenade worthy home. And infinitely preferable to me having to be the hostess to any party. I'll just make sure I have extra strength panadol with codeine on the day for the inevitable headache.
Which brings me to my next item....
Micky Blue Eyes and I must be responsible for keeping the makers of Nurofen thriving. On any given day, one or the other or both of us have a headache. Fun times.
BROKEN SLEEP AND DISJOINTED, CRAZY DREAMS
Last night's blissful slumber involved a dream of passing an horrific car accident. I spotted a severed head on the road with huge pools of blood. Needless to say, I woke up feeling sick and shaken.
I am not taking any illegal drugs, so where are these ridonkulous dreams coming from? Perhaps I should just start a meth habit and be done with it? Except I have no idea where I would find anything like that in the classy old western suburbs of Sydney.
That concludes my Monday morning moaning. Big sighs of relief all round. Well, I could keep going, but I'm sure we're all over crashing, heaving bores. Ahem.
What are you completely over?